The Room of Requirement
by ArlyssTolero
Summary: What if Harry Potter had been chosen by a Lantern ring? What if Harry Potter had chosen different paths? Explore these and more in the room of requirement, a repository of story starters, deleted scenes, omakes, and other projects that don't make the cut or can't be worked on right now.
1. Red Lantern

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any other properties that appear in this. **_

_**A/N: This is a response to my own challenge of the same name, which can be found in DZ2's "House of Fun" subforum.**_

The Room of Requirement

By

ArlyssTolero

Entry One:

Red Lantern

Harry Potter had lived only fifteen years of life, and in that time he had felt a finite number of emotions. He had felt the dull boredom of living on Privet Drive, the infrequent terror of wondering when Vernon Dursley would lose his temper over something and decide to blame 'that freakish Potter boy' rather than his own ineptitudes, and occasionally (since starting at Hogwarts) he had felt the happiness that came with the knowledge that he had friends. But in all his life, the one constant that had accompanied him had been _rage_.

The rage of a child locked away in a cupboard because of something beyond his control. The rage that accompanied the heartache and the question of why his relatives doted on his fat, spoiled lump of a cousin but despised him and did their best to keep him miserable and afraid. The rage of a boy who had grown up with no friends and no comfort from those who should have been there for him. The rage of a young boy who had his backside switched and then thrown unceremoniously into a cupboard under the stairs as punishment for something his prick of a cousin had done.

The rage of an orphan learning the truth behind his parents' deaths. The rage of a young wizard as he was forced to become the wizarding world's hero, to be set on a pedestal only for them to try their damn best to knock him off of it. The rage of a young man who discovered his life was not what it could've been because of the interference of so-called 'better and more knowledgeable men'. The fear and rage of a young wizard as he confronted the man who murdered his parents, or those who had followed such a man, year after year while supposedly under the protection of the most powerful wizard of the age.

Most recently of all, the rage of a young wizard forced into a competition meant for older students, culminating in the resurrection of the Dark Lord Voldemort, only for the wizarding government to refuse to acknowledge it and the man responsible for his safety to shove him back into this hellhole. As Harry sat on the swing set in the park mere blocks from what he had termed Durzkaban after learning what Azkaban was and the true, terrible power of its infamous guards, the Dementors, this rage came to him again. His rage came so easily now; ever since the events in the Graveyard, it had been near the surface, and more than once he had had to resist the urge to whip out his wand (which he now carried with him at all times) and curse Petunia, Vernon, or Dudley. There was also the consistent rage that stemmed from the wholly unhelpful and _teasing_ letters he received from his godfather and his so-called best friends.

Harry was pulled from his dark and vengeful thoughts at the sounds of hooting laughter. Glancing up from the glaring contest he had been having with the ground, he was unsurprised to see Dudley and his gang of losers making their way back towards Privet Drive, where the gang would part ways with Dudley. From the sounds of it, they had been out beating up little kids again, something that both disgusted and enraged Harry. Disgusted because Dudley and his gang still couldn't fight someone unless they were weaker (and no doubt younger) than them, despite all being large-framed pricks in their own right. Enraged because it reminded Harry not only of his own childhood and the damnable game of _Harry Hunting_, but also reminded him that as far as the residents of Little Whinging were concerned, Dudley and his gang of hooligans were just 'spirited boys' and a little over-enthusiastic, in part because their families were essentially the pillars of the local community.

Harry stood, hand drifting to his wand to double-check it was there, before setting off to trail after Dudley. A small part of him wanted to catch up to the miserable wretch that was his cousin and taunt him to bleed off some of the excess rage he was feeling at spotting Dudley and his gang (which had merely combined with his already high levels of rage that had stemmed from his dark thoughts since evading his uncle's grasp after being caught trying to listen to the news), but he chose not to. Things would already be bad enough when he got home; he didn't need Dudley fueling the fire. So he stayed back, trudging along, his rage continuing to course through his veins.

At first, he didn't notice the cold, heat across his shoulders stemming from his fury keeping him warm along with the remnants of the summer day's heat. Then he felt it; the bone-chilling cold, the all-consuming darkness that blotted out all sources of light, the death-rattle breathing that belonged to only one creature on the planet. Wait, not _all_ light was being blotted out; Harry could see a pinprick of light coming closer at high speed, an object surrounded by a menacing red aura. The object slowed as it came to a stop in front of Harry, and Harry became transfixed by the ruby-like ring that rested in mid-air before him, all else falling away, even the fear he had felt and realizing a Dementor was nearby. "_You have great rage in your heart, Harry Potter,_" a voice spoke, as though emanating from the ring itself. "_You belong to the Red Lantern Corps. You know the words; you know them deep in your soul. You need only speak them and you will be ours._"

"With blood and rage of crimson red," Harry began, not understanding how he knew the words spilling out of his mouth but feeling the sense of _rightness_ that came from speaking them, "ripped from a corpse so freshly dead, together with our hellish hate, we'll burn you all – that is your fate!" Harry's hand reached out towards the ring, which slid onto his right ring finger.

Pain enveloped Harry as the transformation begun. His clothing vanished as a red and black uniform formed around him, glowing ominously as he rose into the air, his green irises turning a hate-filled red and a snarl of pure fury erupting from his mouth as finally let loose, his aura flashing outward and caving in the buildings on either side of him. He rose into the air, no longer just Harry Potter, teenage wizard; in fact there was no sign of the teen wizard in the being that rose into the air to face the two Dementors that had attempted to pincer him in. Instead there was a lithe young man, clad in the uniform of the Red Lanterns, his irises a hateful red and his young features only semi-hidden by the crimson domino mask that rested across his face.

Harry shot forward through the air, firing an energy blast from the ring upon his finger at the closest Dementor. The crimson energy, blood-like in appearance, struck the Dementor. While there was no known _magical_ method of destroying a Dementor, the rage-filled energy blasts of a Red Lantern were more than enough to destroy the Dark creature. Harry twirled in mid-air to face the other as it soared at him, mouth opening wide. A mockery of a grin split Harry's features before he soared forward, his own mouth agape.

Even as the Dementor tried to use its most terrible power, burning plasma shot from Harry's mouth, drenching the Dementor and causing it to burst into flames. The creature screamed and soared away, Harry smirking in triumph for a moment before he spotted a lone figure staring up at him in horror, for despite his parents' strong hatred of all things freakish, Dudley Dursley had a fascination with superheroes and their enemies, and he recognized _exactly_ what the figure above him was, though he didn't realize _who_ it was that had become a Red Lantern. Harry began to soar towards Dudley, intent on making the bastard pay for everything he had done and continued to do to make others' lives miserable, and Dudley turned and began running for 4 Privet Drive as fast as his legs could carry him. Harry's ring shot forward, and a coil of red rope shot out, wrapping around Dudley and pulling him into the air.

Dudley wailed as the rope burned around him and then paled as he finally saw the face of the villain who had appeared over the skies of his hometown. "H-H-Harry?" he stammered, but Harry was still in the throes of his new awakening and didn't answer, the basic construct he had crafted on instinct to pull Dudley to him fading and only his grabbing Dudley by the throat kept the larger boy from falling. Dudley's large hands scraped at Harry's gloved ones, staring into the cold, hate-filled red irises of his cousin and seeing nothing of the boy he had grown up with, the boy he had tormented, and in that instant, Dudley Dursley knew he was dead.

Harry rose high into the sky, a sneer fixed upon his features, and moved Dudley close to him. "You should have known this day would come," Harry said, his voice rough and animalistic, before he opened the hand gripping Dudley's throat. Dudley scrambled to try and grab onto his floating cousin but found no grip to be had before he plummeted downwards. Harry maintained his elevation, watching as his cousin fell to the Earth and landed with a squishy and very wet _splat_ in the street outside of 4 Privet Drive. At the sight of the house, a new desire formed in Harry's mind, and he soared down towards the hell that had been his home for fourteen years. It was time to repay his relatives for all of their _kindness_.

Yet before he could do so, a portal opened up above him, and red cords like those he had gripped Dudley with shot out, grabbing him and pulling him up towards the portal.

_***HP***_

Harry groaned as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. He was back in his normal clothes, sans glasses, yet he could still see everything clearly. He looked around and found another man standing nearby. No, not a man; a hulking, rocky figure with glowing red eyes and with a familiar symbol engraved on his chest. "**Welcome, Harry Potter, to Ysmault,**" the figure rumbled. "**I am Atrocitus, and you are the newest to take up the mantle of a Red Lantern. You had more control than most when you awakened, but you still need guidance. That is why you have been brought here.**"

"I'm kind of tired of people deciding what I need in my life," Harry snarled. "I've been controlled and manipulated and I'm tired of it."

"**I am not here to control you, young one,**" Atrocitus replied. "**I am here to show you how to use the full extent of the gifts your Ring grants you. Once that is done, you shall return to your world.**"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "So, you only want to help me learn to control these powers?" Harry asked. "I doubt that. If there's one thing I know, it's that everyone is in this life for themselves and no one helps others without thought of reward. What is it you _really_ want from me?"

"**One day, I will call upon you to aid me in destroying those who destroyed my sector of the universe,**" Atrocitus replied. "**Until that day comes, your life is your own.**"

"Very well," Harry replied after a moment. "Teach me how to use this and then send me back. But if I get the slightest hint you've lied to me… I'll destroy you."

_***DC***_

Three weeks after his disappearance from Surrey, Harry Potter entered 4 Privet Drive quietly, using the key on the back patio that his aunt and uncle had often left out for Dudley (who couldn't be trusted with a key of his own as he tended to lose them). The house was quiet; his uncle was probably at work and his aunt likely down the street at one of the neighbor's homes, losing herself in gossip to avoid the reminder of what had happened to Dudley (assuming they even realized who it was who had popped like a water balloon on the street in front of 4 Privet Drive).

Harry made his way to his bedroom, finding everything as he had left it. He went to his trunk, searching for his vault key, which he would need as a way of identifying himself. Finding it in a pouch that he used to secure his smaller valuables, Harry closed the pouch again and began packing away his other belongings. He would rather be out of this hellhole long before either Petunia or Vernon came back, knowing they would blame him (rightly) for Dudley's disappearance or death (again, depending on if they knew it was he who Harry had dropped from a very great height).

He wasn't quite in the mood to kill them _yet_ because he had decided that they would die with the rest of Little Whinging, the society that had ignored a young boy's suffering on the words of two pathetic and useless individuals. He needed to give himself more of an edge with his _natural_ powers and not have to deal with those pesky underage laws before he could do anything, though, and so the Dursleys would have to wait until he was of age. Wiping their pathetic society from the map would be either his 17th birthday gift to himself or the same for his graduation.

Harry heard the rustle of cloth behind him and turned, cocking his right fist (and the Red Ring upon it) in preparation. His eyes narrowed into slits as he recognized the man standing in the doorway, looking relieved at the sight of Harry, though that relief was turning to concern at Harry's glare. "Lupin," Harry replied shortly. "My, my, this is an unexpected pleasure. It's only been, what, a year since you walked out of my life and never spoke another bloody word to me?"

Remus Lupin winced at Harry's reaction to his presence. He had cautioned Albus that perhaps he wasn't the best choice, seeing as he had failed to keep in contact with the young man, something Sirius had agreed with seeing as Sirius was quite disappointed in Remus' lack of contact with Harry before and after his third year at Hogwarts. "Harry, you disappeared quite suddenly," Remus said. "Everyone was worried. Dumbledore's asked us to keep an eye out in case you came back. One of us has been staying in the guest room here in case you returned."

"And the Dursleys allowed that?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow while his tone implied that Remus was a fool if he expected Harry to believe such a thing was possible.

"Erm, not as such," Remus replied. "After the death of their son the night you disappeared, they were quite certain you were responsible. Professor Dumbledore ended up offering them a vacation with every expense paid for by him for as long as it took for you to come back or until Vernon's vacation time was up. I guess I'm lucky you came today; any later and not only would the Dursleys have been back but you wouldn't have been able to attend Hogwarts this year."

"Yes, I know," Harry replied. "Why do you think I came back? While I've certainly found an edge against Voldemort if I ever meet the snake-faced bastard again, there's another problem I might have to deal with and I need magic as an edge for it. Which, by the way, is the only reason I might accompany you to wherever you want to take me since I doubt the plan is for me to stay here for the next few das until Hogwarts opens again."

"Quite," Remus said, wondering what this 'edge' Harry spoke of was but decided that the adversarial way the teenager was acting was evidence enough that this was not an answer he would get if he asked. In fact, Remus wasn't sure _anyone_ would get answers from Harry, even Sirius, seeing as Harry had not once tried to contact his godfather, who had been the only one who had at least tried to console him. Dumbledore had perused the letters sent to Harry to see if anything set him off and expressed extreme disappointment in the way Ron and Hermione had teased their superior knowledge of what was going on to their friend while praised Sirius for his rather wise approach. Ron and Hermione had been walking around headquarters with guilty expressions ever since.

"I am sure you recall Dumbledore telling Sirius to gather up the old crowd in the hospital wing at Hogwarts?" Remus asked now. Harry nodded curtly. "We've set up a headquarters in London. Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and the rest of the Weasleys are there. You should expect people will want to know where you've been Harry. You've worried all of us."

"Ah, then they shall have as many answers as I receive now that I'm going to be there," Harry replied lightly, before a furious glint appeared in his eye, "Or else they shall receive exactly the amount of information _I_ received… _none!_"

_***HP***_

Harry stared at the so-called Order of the Phoenix (plus assorted Weasleys and Hermione, much to Mrs. Weasley's chagrin, as this was not an official meeting of the Order). "So, who starts first?" Harry asked conversationally. "Do you start first? Do I start first? No, wait," he laughed, and there was nothing warm in that laugh; it was cold and cruel, almost like the laugh that had haunted his nightmares. "You'll start first because that'll determine how much _I_ tell you."

"Surely you can give us some idea, my boy?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling lightly (though not as brightly as they normally did).

"All I'll say is I've gained an edge should I ever meet Tom again, one the snake-faced bastard would never see coming because he would consider the knowledge of it beneath him," Harry replied. "Your move, Albus." More than one wizard and witch in the room stiffened in shock at Harry addressing the revered headmaster so familiarly.

"Alas, I cannot tell you very much, Harry, as you are not a member of the Order and only wizards who are seventeen and above, and who have left school, can join," Dumbledore replied softly.

"Then I can only tell you so much as well, Albus," Harry said. "This is quid pro quo, if you know what that means. Again, your move."

Dumbledore stared at the young man, trying to glean _anything _from him. There was so much rage and hate boiling beneath the surface, and his thoughts were blocked by something stronger than any Occlumency shields he had ever seen; yet the boy's mannerisms remained the same, meaning Tom hadn't taken Harry over. There was that at least. "Voldemort is remaining in the shadows," Dumbledore finally said. "The Ministry remains in denial, and we have found only a few who are willing to believe, all of whom are around this table. We have kept an eye on known Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy as best we could and have our ear to the ground thanks to some of our… seedier contacts." Dumbledore sighed. "We have been unable to convince the wider wizarding world of the threat due to Cornelius' recalcitrance."

"Then perhaps he should be removed from office," Harry replied blandly.

"Sadly, it is not that easy to remove a sitting Minister," Dumbledore replied. "We would need the support of the majority of the Wizengamot, as well as ninety percent of the Department and Office Heads in the Ministry. Most will not side with us, thanks to Cornelius' smear campaign against the two of us."

"Smear campaign?" Harry asked softly, ominously. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

A few eyes darted to others at the table, and finally Sirius pulled a newspaper from a stack. "Don't bother reading the cover stories," Sirius told his godson quietly. "Look at the ends of stories inside the cover." Harry did as Sirius suggested, eyes narrowing until they were slits. Finally, he put the paper down. Then he did something none of those at the table expected.

He laughed. It was a scornful laugh, yes, but it was still a laugh. "By the Corps, I needed that," Harry chuckled, confusing everyone at the table regarding his unusual wording. "If this childish mudslinging is the best Cornelius Fudge can do, then he's in for a rude awakening. I'm _much_ worse, and I have fifteen years of rage at the wizarding world I can unleash."

"You've only been in the wizarding world for four, though," Ron pointed out, trying to figure out why his friend was claiming fifteen.

"My first year of life was spent on the run, the next ten years were spent being a slave to a walrus, giraffe, and whale imitating humans, and the final four have been spent being either the wizarding world's hero or their patsy," Harry replied. "That's fifteen, Ron, no matter how long I've actually spent _in_ the wizarding world."

"I have shared what I can with you, Harry," Dumbledore said plainly. "As you have said twice now, it is your move."

Harry held up his right hand. "This ring gives me a great deal of power," he said blandly. "It came to me when two dementors attacked me the night I disappeared. Once I bonded with it, I destroyed the Dementors and then I was taken somewhere I could learn everything there is to know about what I can do with this thing. I came back because magic gives me an edge against other things and I still need to learn how to control it. Though," he added, taking the two pieces of his wand from his pocket and laying them out on the table, "I will need a new wand. When I arrived at the place I was trained, my wand met with an unfortunate accident."

"We will arrange for you to go to Diagon Alley two days from now," Dumbledore replied, seeing that that was all Harry was going to tell them. Hopefully, he would be more forthcoming with his friends, as their minds were easy to pluck information from, particularly Miss Granger's rather ordered mind.

_***DC***_

Harry was shown to a room that Sirius had prepared for him against Molly Weasley's wishes, as the woman was adamant Harry would share with Ron until Harry said that if he had to put up with Ron's snoring he would probably accidentally suffocate his friend while trying to muffle the snores. Ron had turned a sickly pale at that while the twins' eyes had alit with mischief while they snickered at Ron's expression; Harry had no doubt some new invention against snoring siblings was even now being brainstormed in the Weasley twins' room. They were incorrigible that way.

"This used to be my room," Sirius told his godson. "I'm down the hall in my parents' room with Buckbeak. He gets lonely and we've been through a lot together, doesn't seem right to leave him all alone," Sirius added at seeing his godson's amused look. "So, how much of that down there was bullshit?"

"None," Harry replied. "Unless you mean 'vague bullshit', then yes, all of it was except the bit about needing to learn more magic. I'm not Dumbledore's plaything that he can take out of a box whenever he's feeling gloomy and manipulate. This edge I've got now, it's just as useful against Dumbledore as it is against Voldemort, and I won't be manipulated or coerced ever again." Harry raised an eyebrow. "So, was Dumbledore spewing bullshit or vague bullshit that was true but unhelpful?"

"The latter," Sirius said dryly, stepping into the room and closing the door. "He doesn't want you to know this, but I don't give a damn about his orders. Maybe if he required a loyalty oath after everything with Peter, but he's still trusting the likes of Snape without saying anything. So I can say what I damn well please. There's a prophecy, about you and Voldemort, in the Department of Mysteries. We're guarding it so Voldemort can't get his hands on it. And no, I don't know what it says," Sirius said regretfully. "I'd tell you if I did. I don't think Dumbledore even told James and Lily about it before he sent them into hiding."

"So, this prophecy is why Voldemort wants me dead," Harry replied. "He killed my parents to get to me?"

"Yes, but don't blame yourself, kid," Sirius said.

"I'm not," Harry replied, surprising Sirius, who knew from Ron and Hermione that Harry tended to blame himself for the stupidest things that he had no control over. "I used to do that, I know," Harry added, seeing the frown on Sirius' face and understanding instantly where it came from. "But now I know the blame lies with Voldemort, Pettigrew, and anyone else who had a hand in all of that. Dumbledore, too, for that matter, since him hiding my parents singled them out for Voldemort." Harry turned to look out at the London skyline. "Blaming myself won't do anything. But channeling my anger, my rage, my hatred for those who've manipulated my life and sent me down this path? That _is_ productive."

Sirius felt a chill at his godson's words. Anger, rage, and hatred; such passion emotions that were used in the darker magics. The last thing Sirius wanted was to see his godson take that path. "Harry, that isn't healthy or productive," Sirius said quietly. "It poisons your soul."

"My soul is already damned," Harry replied. "It was the moment I took up the Ring, and I can never take it off. I take off the Ring, and I die. That is the price for power, and it's a price I'm willing to pay to see justice done. True justice, not the foolishness Dumbledore or Oa preach while hiding their own corruption!" Harry's fists clenched as he recalled his lessons about the Guardians of the Universe and how they hid their own corruption and their role in the destruction of Sector-666 behind their sanctimonious attitude and guarded themselves with those half-wit Greens. Realizing he had let something slip, he forced a smile on his face as he turned back to his godfather. "Goodnight, Sirius."

Sirius departed, frowning as he ran what Harry had said over and over in his head. Where, or what, was Oa?


	2. Wand Against the Dark

_**A/N: This would be the first scene if I decide to take on DZ2's "Blank Slate: Light version" challenge. **_

Entry 2

Wand Against the Dark

Frank Longbottom's expression was grim as he approached the wreckage that had once been the cottage James and Lily Potter were hiding in; he had been sent a Patronus by Sirius Black that Lily and James had been compromised, asking for Frank's back-up. With his own family firmly ensconced behind the war wards of Longbottom Manor, Frank had ventured out to render the aid Sirius sought, intending to meet the man at the cottage. Now as he saw the devastation before him, Frank knew that he would need to begin the evaluation on his own and, with luck, Sirius would arrive shortly. Frank's wand was out and lit with a Lumos charm as he entered the cottage, noting the door had been blasted off its hinges by a blast of pure magic. That in and of itself was testament to who had done this. The question was, where was the Dark Mark? Had Voldemort been stopped before he completed his task?

Frank found James Potter at the base of the stairs, the man's torso cut to ribbons by a dark curse and his eyes glassy and unseeing. Oddly, the wounds showed no signs of bleeding, almost as though the curse had been cast on James' body _after_ he had died. The Dark Lord was ruthless, manipulative, cruel… but he was not petty. Frank palmed his wand, prepared to strike if whichever Death Eater had followed Voldemort here was still around and began to ascend the stairs towards the nursery, where he could hear the wailing of young Harry, who had been born a day after Frank's own son, Neville. Frank's sharp eyes saw a figure huddled by the crib, holding a prone figure with dark red hair: Lily. That could only mean the dark-haired figure holding her was her one-time best friend, Severus Snape. Frank fired off a Stunner from his own family library, one that would lock Snape into a dreamless loop until either Frank released him or a Legilimens led him out.

Frank stepped over the prone figures of Snape and Lily, taking a moment to stoop down and close Lily's emerald green eyes before taking in the other details of the room. A circle of runes had been written around young Harry's crib, a thin cut adorned the boy's forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt (a runic sign of power), and a pile of shredded robes lay on the floor, ashes leaking out of the cuts in the robes. Frank recalled Alice telling him that Lily Potter had approached her with information on an ancient ritual that could be used to protect a loved one, powered by an act of self-sacrifice. It was blood magic, ancient and forbidden, and Frank knew that everyone and their dog would be doing their best to ensure that young Harry never knew the truth because then it might 'interest' the boy in the line of magic that had been used to save his life.

More importantly, Frank knew that just because Voldemort was gone didn't mean the threat was over; Snape's presence was proof enough. He may have felt something for Lily Potter, but he had had nothing but hatred for James Potter and Frank doubted that Harry having Lily's genes mattered to Snape. And if any other Death Eaters came here, Lily's sacrifice and the destruction of Voldemort would be for naught. There were enough charismatic wizards in the ranks of the Death Eaters that they could rally their fellows around them even with the downfall of the Dark Lord, especially if they had as their trophy the death of the young boy responsible.

Frank Longbottom made a split-second decision that would alter the course of history. Sirius Black was a hothead who would focus more on getting revenge for James and Lily; Alice was certain that Lily had only acquiesced to Sirius being Harry's godfather because she was certain the man would get himself killed. Alice was Harry's godmother, having taken Lily under her wing when the Order of the Phoenix was formed and forged a strong bond of friendship that had only strengthened after they had learned their families were targeted by Voldemort. Dumbledore meant well, but he liked to control things. Harry would need _stability_ after losing his parents, not a hotheaded guardian who ran off at a moment's notice or whatever scheme Dumbledore cooked up to keep him safe.

Frank issued soothing noises to the toddler as he picked up, holding the young boy close to him and keeping his wand up as best he could. For now, the war wards of Longbottom Manor would keep young Harry safe from _anything_ that might harm him, whether it came from the Dark Side or the Light. Frank would have to curry favor with his boss, Bartemius Crouch Sr., to make sure he and Alice becoming Harry's guardians was made certain before either Sirius or Dumbledore managed to kick up a fuss. The fact that Barty was suspicious of both those men, for differing reasons, would help greatly.


End file.
